Sunday, October 30, 2011

when "Mom" becomes three syllables

We did indeed watch Sound of Music last night.  It was its usual sweet, goofy, sentimental, sexist self.  I enjoyed watching it, but Dean is working this weekend, so he was gone for more than half of it, and MadMax was utterly unamused.  I bribed him with popcorn and Sprite to stick with it for awhile, but he finally gave up in disgust and went downstairs to the other TV.

The thing is, I don't think he really hated it as much as he let on.  I think it was more the idea of it that had him horrified.  His 14-year-old self is way too cool to watch silly family-friendly movies, especially musicals.  I thought he might be able to get into it just for the sake of some family time, but it appears those days are gone, too.

We've been through this with Nell, so I sort of know what to expect.  As with the movie last night, I don't think that they truly hate family time (that doesn't come until 16 or so), it's just that they're pretty sure they're not supposed to like it anymore, because cool kids don't, so they convince themselves they hate it.  Which is why--often-- if you can get them to go along, they'll enjoy themselves and be comforted even if they can't admit it and grumble all the while.  That's why I've dragged him to any number of things in the past six months.

but there does seem to be a bit of a difference between the two of them.  So far with MadMax, the difference over the past year or so is more specifically directed at me.  Well, at least me in my role as mom.  It's the mother-role he's rejecting, because he doesn't know what to do with it.  If Dean had sat and watched the movie with us, MadMax would have suffered through.

With Nell, the anti-mom stuff didn't happen until she was 16 or 17 and started dating.  Then suddenly, I was The Enemy.  It surprised the heck out of me, because we had always gotten along pretty well (generally speaking) before that.  But with MadMax, for several months now, other than the occasional hug or talk in the car, he ignores me.  Or appears to.

Most of the time I do pretty well at remembering that it's the role they're rejecting, not me personally.  And as long as I remember that, if I gently persist, I can push through some of the negativity and reclaim my kid.  But it's a strange feeling.

So I said there would be another post after Barbie Goes to the Mall and Clay Feet, but I find that there's not that much to say.  This has happened before.  I have some sort of a-ha! moment, but when I try to explain it, it ends up just sounding so obvious.  So I write setup posts to try and get at what exactly happened, but it still sounds less like a wise insight than just a casual observation.

So the point of all that was:  I chose my current set of beliefs.  See what I mean?  Duh.  Of course I did.  But as I was driving home from UTown and had that thought, it felt like a huge weight lifting off my shoulders.  Go figure.  I'm still not sure exactly why.  Was I worried at some level that someone had coerced me into my current belief system?  (just as I was coerced into the beliefs of my childhood by not having any choice.)  Maybe that's it.  I don't know.  I choose this way of thinking.  It works for me.  For some reason, coming to that realization was huge for me.  But rather than getting an entire post or two out of it, a paragraph seems to have sufficed.

I'm reaching the point in the semester where I disappear from everybody else's blogs.  Apologies in advance.  I will probably still post here, but I may not appear much of anywhere else.

1 comment:

  1. Isn't parenting just the strangest damn job?! Gah, but we do survive, and so do they. Which is really all that's required.

    Coming to realizations, and ah ha! moments, are always more interesting in our own heads. Lol, but that doesn't mean your readers aren't fascinated... because this one actually is. I love it when you make me think.

    Good luck with the studies, and here's to hoping that you CAN check in sometimes. If not, we'll still be where you left us.